


Bittersweet

by sarcastically



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Young Veins
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Cults, Demon Summoning, M/M, Other characters will be added as they show up, brendon can change his appearance (and shirt) at will, demon!brendon, ryan got peer pressured into it, this might update slow sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:30:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5076094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastically/pseuds/sarcastically
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan summons a demon in a ritual set forth by a cult and, although the demon seems benevolent enough, he soon finds that he's in bigger trouble than he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pentagrams And Stupid Shirts

It was all some sort of joke - at least, Ryan _hoped_ it was. It was never really his intention to get into an actual cult, but when you’re put under the pressure of being called a “little bitch” by one of your best friends, you’ll do some stupid shit. Well, at least in his case. Ryan wasn’t the best at not taking insults to heart, if he was being honest.

So here he was, standing outside of this giant pentagram he drew with a piece of chalk he conjured up from the depths of his garage. Candles marked the middle of each side and his eyes darted down to the crumpled up and smudged piece of notebook paper to check the positions. Blue in the east, red in the north, black in the south, and white in the west. Check, check, check, check. He wasn’t sure of the significance of the colors or directions, but he hoped it was just to make the altar look pretty and not code for “summon the worst demon ever to this exact location”.

Ryan ran his fingers over the piece of paper and bit his lip. Was he really about to risk summoning some demon from God knows what ring of Hell? What the fuck would he do if he couldn’t get rid of it? It’s not like he could call a priest; his dad would ask questions, and he was sure that saying “oh by the way, I joined a cult and did a demon ritual but now it won’t leave so please call a priest” would be worrying in more ways than one. He shifted so that he was standing behind the black candle, closed his eyes, and counted to ten before clearing his throat. 

“ _Damnant quod non intelligere, quandoquidem natura animi mortalis habetur_ ,” he started shakily, stumbling over the pronunciation every other syllable, “ _Mors ultima linea rerum est. Lirach Tasa Vefa Wehl Belial!_ ”

It happened so suddenly, Ryan was sent into some sort of slow-motion curse. The ground shuddered under his feet and the floorboards groaned in protest. His window creaked as if it was about to bust and, through the howling of the sudden windstorm within his room, he thought he could hear the glass cracking. The wind was coming from everywhere, as if it was shooting out of every crack in his walls. The force was so strong, Ryan was having problems trying to stand upright. Despite the fact that they definitely should’ve been blown out, the flames of the candles rose higher than any fire on a stupid two dollar candle should have.

There was a sudden flash of light so blinding it made Ryan’s head spin and his eyes burn. He nestled his face into the sleeve of his jacket and tried to will away the immense heat emitting from the center of the pentagram. The back of his arm started burning in a way that wasn’t unlike being branded. He let out a string of profanity in a display of realization and mind reeling pain - the fucking cult tattoo on his arm was _burning_. For a moment he thought he might pass out, but just as fast as it had started, everything just… stopped. He kept his eyes closed.

It was kind of like the stories his grandma told him about tornadoes. How everything was moving and changing and being destroyed one second and then the next it was just total equilibrium. He didn’t hear anything moving, didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. Didn’t feel a strange presence -- honestly, he felt totally numb. He was feeling like that a lot lately.

“Are you going to keep trying to sleep standing up, or are you going to tell me why I’m here?” a voice asked suddenly.

Ryan’s eyes flew open almost comically fast, and he screamed almost immediately. In the center of the pentagram stood a man - Belial? - with ashy gray skin and long, curved horns jutting out of his forehead. Odd scarification symbols marked his chest and his chin, and even on his face in some places. His eyes glimmered a bright gold color, and his mouth went dry when they made eye contact. Ryan yelped again, jumping back so far, he tripped over one of his scarves and fell backwards into his desk. He squeezed his eyes shut because it was the only thing to do he could think of.

“Damn, dude, chill.” the demon remarked lazily, and a soft whooshing noise sounded from where he was.

Ryan dared to open his eyes again, and his heart jumped in fear. Belial’s appearance had completely shifted into what seemed to be a teenage boy. He had pale skin with gray patches blotching areas of his face and arms. His horns had shrunk a great deal although they were still there, and his hair was now fluffy and brown and stopped just below his chin. He also had a shirt that proclaimed in a shitty Helvetica font “i didn’t come here to make friends, i came here to be america’s next top model” - which was _great_ because previously, he didn’t have a shirt on and Ryan felt kind of nervous that he was thinking about a demon’s hot bod. 

“I’m sorry,” Ryan finally choked out as he stood up. “I-I it was this stupid fucking cult thing I just… I didn’t want to be a chicken. I didn’t know fricking Belial, o’ great ruler of impurity and lust, would actually show up in my bedroom.”

“Well, it happened, and I’m here.” Belial stated matter-of-factly, now sporting a pair of shades and a shirt saying “the moon is gay”. He stepped forward before scuffing some of the chalk off of the floor and picking up the candles. The demon set them down on Ryan’s nightstand before walking back to brush away the rest of the chalk with his shoe.

“You’re awfully helpful for a demon from the depths of Hell,” Ryan snorted as he watched Belial clean up the ritual mess.

“Yeah, well, if you didn’t get rid of the pentagram, then I wouldn’t have been able to get out of it,” he grinned wolfishly, his horns now back to the massive size they had been before. Fuck.

_Fuck_. He was such an idiot. He was an idiot for joining a cult, an idiot for letting Jon get to him, an idiot for summoning a demon, and an idiot for forgetting that he was supposed to keep the pentagram solid until the ritual was over. But _nooooo_. Ryan _had_ to be stupid and forgetful, and now there was a prince of Hell rummaging through his sock drawer.

“Get out of there!” Ryan yelped, slamming the dresser drawer shut a few seconds shy of Belial pulling something out of it.

The demon held up the singular olive-colored cable knit thigh high, and Ryan’s face immediately went red. He snatched the sock from his hands and crammed it back into the sock drawer hastily, trying to ignore the embarrassment that was actually causing him physical pains.

“What’s up with the long socks?” Belial teased, grinning that fucking terrifying grin again. His fangs caught on his lip when he settled back into a smug smirk, and it sort of reminded Ryan of those cats that didn’t know how to keep their tongue in their mouths.

“They are _thigh highs_ and they are comfortable and keep me warm,” Ryan huffed as he leaned back against the dresser, “and they’re cute, okay? Don’t fuckin’ go telling your Hell buddies or Satan or whoever that I wear them because I don’t want to think about them laughing at even the mention of me, okay?”

Suddenly, Belial was perched on the edge of the dresser next to him, and Ryan tried to ignore the mini heart attack that ensued. “Why would they laugh at you?” Belial asked curiously, “Well, they laugh at humans all the time, but why about the socks? I just thought it was funny because there was a random - um - thigh high in your drawer.”

Ryan paused. Were demons really nicer than humans in the sense that they didn’t give a fuck what you were wearing? If anyone at school knew that Ryan wore thigh highs, he’d be deemed the gayest motherfucker going there. He looked up at the demon, but he was looking elsewhere, scanning the room with his glowing eyes. His eyes reminded Ryan of those glow in the dark constellations he used to stick above his bed, how they glowed just enough to be noticeable but not bright enough to brighten up more than a few inches of the ceiling. He hummed a melody quietly to himself as he looked down at his shoes. _If I am truly made of one million glowing constellations_ -

His thoughts were cut short by the sound of the front door slamming shut, and Ryan was pretty sure he died right then and there for at least five seconds. His eyes darted to the clock on his nightstand and he whispered a quick “fuck” before bounding over to his door. Then, he realized that fucking Belial was still in his fucking room and his dad was totally going to freak the fuck out if he saw the stupid demon with patches of gray skin and terrifyingly sharp horns. For the first time in his life, Ryan prayed that his dad had been drinking before coming home.

“Ryan!” his dad boomed from somewhere downstairs, and Ryan yelped out a response as he sped out of his room and down the stairs. To the teenage boy’s absolute horror, he looked back to see Belial thundering down after him. Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_. He was _dead_ and _dying_ and his dad was going to send him to the fucking North Pole or some shit for summoning a demon into their house.

To add onto the horror, his dad was waiting for him by the stairwell with a bottle of beer in one hand and a plate of pizza in the other. He moved to shove Belial back up the stairs, but clearly it was in no way subtle because his dad gruffly asked who the hell was with him. Belial jumped the last few steps and landed gracefully out in the open, and Ryan closed his eyes in fear.

“Well, are you going to tell me who the hell he is or are you just going to play dead?” the man snapped, tapping the base of his bottle against the wall in agitation.

Ryan turned so that he could look at Belial, who now looked like a normal teenage boy. No obscure patches on his skin, no horns, no fangs, no glowing yellow eyes. He even had a different shirt on, one that said “REINVENT LOVE” in big, bold print. There was still a problem though - what the fuck kind of human being was named Belial? He bit his lip before slowly turning back to face his dad.

“This is B… rendon. This is Brendon. Brendon, um, Urie,” Ryan babbled nervously, wringing his hands together. The name had come on a whim - the name Brendon was a nice name, he liked it, but Urie… He didn’t know where the fuck Urie came from, but now it was Belial’s name.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Ross,” Belial - _Brendon_ \- greeted sweetly, “I just moved here from, um, Antartica.”

“Well now I know why you have such a fucked up name,” Mr. Ross grumbled before shuffling his way into the kitchen, “pizza’s in here, don’t eat it all.”

Brendon looked like he wanted to rip someone’s head off, but instead he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Ryan gently tugged him back up the stairs by the sleeve of his shirt. When they reached his room, he shut the door and buried his face in his hands.

“Sorry about that,” Ryan laughed half-heartedly, “my dad’s a dick, and I’m sorry for giving you a fucked up name.”

“It’s not fucked up, I like it,” Brendon smiled, which looked a lot less sinister without his fangs, “Brendon Urie. Sounds like the name of some pop punk singer.”

Ryan didn’t really get the allusion, but he found himself laughing anyway. He sat down in front of his door and rested his gangly arms on his knees. “So, _Brendon_ , do demons typically enjoy pop punk music?” he joked, which got him a laugh from said demon.

“Some of them do,” Brendon remarks, sitting on the edge of Ryan’s dresser, “some of them like country music, I mean, it’s all just opinion, Ryan.”

“So, what’re you gonna do? I don’t know how to get you home and I don’t even know the cult leader’s actual name,” Ryan groaned angrily, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hands, “I mean, I guess you can sleep on my floor until the next full moon or I figure something out.” 

Brendon just shrugged in response. He looked tiny compared to his demon form. He looked innocent and sweet and nothing like a being that could probably pull someone’s spine out of their throat with little effort. Ryan frowned before getting to his feet and shuffling to his closet. 

He pulled out a wad of blankets and pillows and tossed them unceremoniously onto the floor. He scooted the big comforters around so that they formed somewhat of a bed shape, and then dropped the pillows and smaller blankets onto it. The whole time, Brendon had watched him with a curious sort of expression.

“I guess you can sleep here,” Ryan gestured down at the pallet, “it’s already twelve in the morning and I have school tomorrow so I’m going to bed.”

Brendon crawled off of the dresser and onto the pallet, nestling himself into the blankets. Ryan watched him for a second before stepping over him to get to the lightswitch and flicking it off. His heart jumped into his throat for a moment when he turned back around to see bright yellow irises following his every movement. He willed away the fear as he crawled into his own bed and kicked his pants off into the pile of other dirty pants on his floor. As soon as his head hit the pillow, Ryan could already feel sleep tugging him away but, in the moments before he was fully asleep, he swore he heard Brendon whisper “good night”.


	2. Bonding Over Your Mutual Hate Of Shane Morris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey look its panic and that one asshole
> 
> ( sorry these chapters are so short :'v )

Ryan would be a damned dirty liar if he had said that he didn’t forget that Brendon was in his room. He had woken up to the beeping of his alarm, turned it off, and blearily glared at his ceiling just as he would any other day. He tossed his blankets off of himself, threw his legs over the side of the bed, and promptly kicked Brendon straight in the ribcage. 

Ryan yelped in surprise and pulled his knees up to his chest while Brendon wheezed and groaned into his pillow. Then, Ryan started laughing - at himself or at Brendon, he didn't know. Brendon didn't find it nearly as funny and settled into a pout that looked a little unsettling when it was paired with golden eyes and horns. 

After getting all of his laughs out, Ryan lazily tugged on the pair of pants from the day before and a plain button up shirt that he carelessly snatched out of his closet. Confusion overtook him when he looked up to see Brendon brushing his hair (with _his_ God damn hair brush) in a shirt that read "Myrtle Beach, FL." in big, curly letters. He was back to his normal boy appearance ( _I'm a real boy!_ Ryan thought humorously, biting back a laugh.) and his doe eyes caught Ryan's for a moment and rendered him short of breath. Fuck, was it a rule not to look a demon in the eyes because they can pull some tricky shit on your lungs?

"So, what time are we leaving?" Brendon piped up finally as he tossed the brush onto the bed beside him.

"I- what? We?" Ryan questioned, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"Yeah, you said you have school today," the demon reminded him, leaning back against the wall, "I just assumed that I should go with you." 

" _How?_ You're not even a human! You don't have a birth certificate or whatever, and I would think that the teachers will notice a new kid-"

"Shh, Ryan," he hushed, squishing Ryan's cheeks with his forefinger and thumb, "I have my ways of getting around humans - I've been to Earth before, I know things."

Ryan just shut his mouth and finished tying his shoe before throwing his backpack (that was full of notebooks and shit he didn’t even use) at Brendon and heading downstairs.

\- - -

So there they were, slowly walking across the schoolyard to Ryan’s usual hangout spot. A few people stopped talking to stare at Brendon, but he didn’t seem to be paying attention. “Seem” being the keyword because Ryan could see the way his knuckles whitened as he gripped the strap of the backpack every time they passed a group of kids. He settled for patting the demon’s shoulder in a display of no-homo comfort.

Jon and Spencer were already sitting at the picnic table, probably chatting about something Ryan couldn’t give less of a damn about. Really, he couldn’t give a damn about anything other than getting Brendon back to his place of origin. Their eyes immediately focused on Brendon before flitting back to Ryan in almost near unison.

“Who’s this?” asked Spencer, gesturing to Brendon with a nod but not unlocking eyes with the other boy. He was unusually timid, and it kind of made Ryan sweat.

“Oh, uh,” Ryan stuttered, gently laying a hand on the demon’s shoulder, “this is Brendon. Urie. Brendon Urie. He’s… new here.”

“So, Brendon,” Jon started in that voice that told Ryan that he _knew_ , “where are you from, man?”

“Oh, I’m from Antarctica.” Brendon beamed, all sunshine and happiness with no demonic undertones whatsoever. Maybe he was just a really good actor and was playing him for a fool so that he could take his soul to Satan or some shit.

“Ant… arctica.” Jon repeated slowly as he glanced over to Spencer. Spencer looked utterly confused and Ryan kind of wished that Brendon had just dragged his stupid ass to Hell as soon as he was summoned.

Thankfully, the bell rang just in time to save Brendon from coming up with some half-assed excuse. Jon grabbed Ryan by his sleeve as he turned away and harshly whispered in his ear, “We need to talk,” which, in Jon Walker-ese, meant “I’m going to kick your ass so hard your grandkids will be born with concaves for butts”. Ryan just nodded vigorously and grabbed Brendon by the shoulders to steer him to class.

 

The trip to Chemistry wasn’t as tough as Ryan had originally presumed. Most kids stepped out of the way or stood stubbornly in the way so that the two boys had to play pinball between the lockers and their bodies. They were greeted at the door by Ms. Hyun, and Ryan’s heart skipped a few beats. It wasn’t that Ms. Hyun wasn’t nice - really, she was one of the sweeter, better looking teachers in the school - but the fact that Brendon just randomly appeared was… worrying. Her narrow eyes widened a little when she saw them, and her mouth quirked up into something of a semi-smile.

“Hello, are you new? I’m Mrs. Hyun.” she greeted in that strange way-too-polite way she always seemed to use, and stuck out one of her hands.

Brendon gripped her hand with a sweet smile before answering in a cold and calculated way, “Yes, I should be on the roster, ma’am.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but suddenly clamped it shut with a clack of her teeth. Her face went entirely blank for a few moments before leaving the daze and saying brightly, “Oh yes! Brendon Urie, I knew that.”

Ryan’s jaw dropped. What the fuck kind of Jedi mind trick did Brendon just pull? Maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised; demons should be tricky and manipulative. It made Ryan wonder just how much he had been fucked with and hadn’t even noticed. 

“- Ryan and Shane.” the teacher was saying, and Ryan visibly recoiled at that name. Fucking Shane Morris. What a fucking scumbag. The scumbag who was his fucking chemistry partner. Gross.

Ryan and Brendon shuffled into the classroom, Brendon quickly recapping him on what Mrs. Hyun said. Basically, he did some freaky mind shit and now he had two partners who were both demons - one literally and one, well, Ryan wasn’t going to say that there wasn’t a possibility that Shane isn’t a demon. Fucking asshole, scuzzbag, annoying-

“Ross!” Fuck.

If Ryan rolled his eyes any harder, he was pretty sure they would detach from his cornea or whatever and just fall into his skull. He moodily slammed his notebook on the desk and flopped into his seat, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Brendon watching him confusedly. Brendon dragged a chair over and perched apprehensively on the edge, running his finger over the spirals of Ryan’s notebook.

“What’s up, buddy?” Ugh. Stop talking, please. “Oh shit, a new kid. What’s up, new kid? I’m Shane.” God, he sounded like nails on a chalkboard.

Brendon seemed to adopt Ryan’s attitude towards the other guy. “Yeah. I know.” he stated bluntly.

“Damn, Ryan,” laughed Shane, smacking Ryan on the back of the neck, “Why’s your new friend so salty?”

_Because you’re fucking annoying,_ Ryan snapped internally, but he settled for tapping his pencil against the desk. He could feel heat rolling off of the demon next to him in waves, and he glanced up to see him staring at Shane with an intensity in those inhuman golden eyes that made Ryan nervous. The last thing he needed was Brendon losing his human appearance and busting out the horns and gray skin. He touched the other’s thigh and almost hissed at how it felt as if he touched a burner on a stove.

Shane didn’t seem to notice. Bastard.

 

A droning lesson about what the class should and shouldn’t do when doing their lab later, Ryan adjusted his stupid goggles that gripped his face too tight with a sigh. They were doing some bullshit reaction lab with “dangerous chemicals”, but Ryan wasn’t going to risk fucking anything up because Mrs. Hyun was actually unlocking the emergency shower.

They were about ten minutes in with no incidents. They had carefully poured the hydrogen peroxide into a beaker of yeast and recorded the reaction. Now, Shane brought up the bright idea to use one of the most dangerous chemicals next for “excitement factor” and Ryan was kind of afraid that he’d just throw it on someone. As he was reaching for it, however, suddenly the beaker of chemical jerked on it’s own and promptly sloshed all over Shane’s front. He yelped like a kicked puppy, and soon Mrs. Hyun was practically throwing him into the shower and switching it on.

Brendon was stifling his laughter by burying his face in the crook of his arm. That was when Ryan realized _Brendon_ had moved the beaker so it would get on Shane. He bit his lip and tried to hold in his own laughter as he piled napkins on top of the puddle. Mrs. Hyun rushed back to them with a pair of maid-worthy rubber gloves and began wiping up the mess.

“You boys can just finish tomorrow,” she sighed defeatedly, holding the wad of napkins out at an arm’s length.

Brendon shot a grin at Ryan and placed one of his fingers over his lips in a _hush_ motion. Ryan smiled.

\- - -

They had made it through four classes with no more mishaps. Now, they were sitting quietly at Ryan’s usual lunch spot - a picnic table out on the yard, underneath one of those huge trees that enjoyed shedding little spiney things everywhere. Brendon poked at the rather sad looking cheeseburger on his tray before dejectedly looking over at Ryan.

“This is sad, Ryan,” he said, stabbing a finger into the wheat bun of the burger, “they feed you prison food. I’m pretty sure even Limbo serves better shit than this, and those assholes just wander around like headless chickens!”

“Welcome to high school, buddy,” Ryan snickered, shoving a fry in his mouth. “It’s like Hell but worse.”

“Hell’s not _that_ bad…”

“Hey Ryan, hey Brendon,” greeted a voice that was on the edge of being melancholic.

“Hey, Spence,” Ryan replied, high-fiving him after he set his tray down. Soon, Jon joined them, clutching his paper bag tightly. “Hey Jon.”

“Ryan.” he replied simply, but shot a small smile at Brendon before greeting him in the same way. That was kind of scary, Jon wasn’t normally a cold guy. Ryan suddenly found his flaky french fries a lot more interesting.

It was a lot of conversation that excluded him from there, filled by Brendon and Spencer jabbering about cartoons and music, and Jon glaring uncomfortably at Ryan. Suddenly, Jon stood up and crumpled his devoured lunch so that he could throw it away like any normal kid would do. But, Ryan felt fingers yank the back of his collared shirt and he scrambled to pick up his tray and follow the older boy.

As they shoved their trash into the bin, Jon gripped Ryan’s arm with one of his hands. He practically dragged him up the yard and the stairs, past the office, down the right wing, and into the bathroom. He shoved Ryan so hard, he lost his footing and stumbled painfully into one of the porcelain sinks.

“We need to talk, _now._ ”


	3. Chapter 3

“What?”

 

It wasn’t really a genuine question, just an automatic response. Ryan was pressed back against the sink with his knees threatening to buckle underneath him. He was fucking _scared_. Jon Walker wasn’t known to be an angry guy, he was the kid that smoked pot and never seemed to take insults to heart. So when he was pissed off, he probably had a damn good reason to be.

 

Ryan’s heart was hammering so hard against his ribs, he was surprised that the sink wasn’t vibrating in time with it. His thoughts flew to Brendon. God, he fucking left him with Spencer. What was going to happen when the bell rang? He didn’t know where to go without Ryan to guide him.

 

“Who the hell is he -- _What_ the hell is he?” snapped Jon, locking eyes with him in the most uncomfortable way possible.

 

“Brendon. He’s Bren-”

 

“Don’t try to pull that with me, Ry,” Jon huffed, grabbing the front of Ryan’s shirt. “What is Brendon? Humans don’t fucking live in Antarctica, that was a bullshit answer.”

 

“I think you know the answer, Jon.”

 

“I was hoping I didn’t.” He frowned and let go of Ryan’s shirt, smoothing it down as he stepped away. “I didn’t do it Ry, it was too risky. Most of them didn’t.”

 

Great, now Ryan was a fucking idiot because he thought everyone was doing it. Was this how peer pressure worked? The only form of peer pressure he had experienced was that one time when Bert McCracken asked if he wanted to buy cocaine (in which his answer was “No, thank you.” and Bert’s was “Oh. Okay. Do you know someone who does?”). He could feel his face burning and he turned around to look at himself in the mirror so that he didn’t have to meet Jon’s eyes. He watched Jon scrub his face with his hands and pace back and forth for a few moments before quietly asking, “What am I going to do, Jon?”

 

“I don’t know,” he replied bluntly, “I guess you just wait until the next meeting. And keep the Beepis away from Christian shit.”

 

“We don’t even have -- _Beepis_?” Ryan doubled over in laughter, bumping his forehead against the faucet. He stifled a few laughs before making eye contact with Jon through the mirror and saying with a grin, “Fuckin’ Beepis.”

 

“Fuckin’ Beepis.” Jon repeated, leaning so that his chin was resting on Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan tilted his head so that it was leaning against his and sighed. He was totally fucked.

 

“Ryan?” came a voice, following the creak of the door swinging open.

 

He glanced up to see Brendon standing behind them, and he swore he saw the glint of yellow in the demon’s eyes. Jon instantly stood up straight and whirled around to shoot a smile at him. Brendon returned it with a tight-lipped, threatening smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Ryan was confused - why was Brendon acting so weird? Earlier, he was beaming and fucking dying at a stupid joke Jon had made. Maybe it was because Jon dragged him off like he was going to kick his ass.

 

“Well, I’m gonna go find Spencer.” Jon blurted out awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Bye Ry, bye Brendon.”

 

And with that, Ryan and Brendon were left standing in uncomfortable silence, disrupted only by the dripping of the faucet. Suddenly it seemed a whole lot warmer. Brendon was staring him down like a cat that honed in on it’s prey, and Ryan could feel sweat gathering underneath his collar. The air seemed thicker, it was harder to breathe.

 

“It was about me,” said Brendon thoughtfully, his features softening a little, “Jon took you here to talk about me.”

 

Tornado sirens were blaring in the small, crowded space of Ryan’s mind. Brendon almost looked sad, he didn’t want him to be sad. He didn’t know what to do in situations like this -- when _he_ was sad, he just wrote sad poetry or songs and managed to get over it fairly quickly. He didn’t know how to deal with _other_ people being sad.

 

“He’s just scared.” Ryan finally managed to get out. “He didn’t do it -- no one did -- he’s scared of demons. I’m the stupid white chick in the horror movie, Jon just doesn’t want me to get hurt, B.”

 

“We’re in nickname territory now, Ryro?” he grinned maniacally, looking up at Ryan through thick eyelashes.

 

The temperature had dropped back down to something on the verge of chilly. The taller boy shoved the other playfully, making him stumble back. He yanked open the door and gestured for Brendon to walk through while saying, “Come on you big dumb, we have to go to art.”

 

  
\-     -     -  
  


 

Art was as busy as ever. It was a full class -- kids crammed at tables like gross, awkward sardines in a can. Ryan’s table was the least populated; only three out of the six chairs were ones people sat in, so Brendon found a seat easily. A few heads turned to gawk at the demon before they twisted back around to murmur amongst themselves. Maybe they were actually looking at Ryan, he wasn’t very well liked.

 

Brendon had cautiously taken the seat to his right, and his elbow was resting a little too close to Ryan’s and his thigh was a little too hot against Ryan’s and Ryan could feel a weird, creeping blush rise up his whole body. That was weird -- he wasn’t usually weird with physical contact. He decided to just focus on scraping at the dried paint on the table in front of him.

 

“¿Qué tal, amigos?” The chair across from Ryan groaned as it was scooted out of place.

 

“Hey, Gabe,” Ryan greeted, shooting a small smile up at him (even though he was sitting down, the tall motherfucker). The aforementioned teenager grinned, pushing his shitty neon green Wayfarers up onto the top of his head.

 

“Who’s this cutie?” he prodded, making a kissy face at Brendon. Ryan tried to ignore the sudden urge to punch him in the mouth.

 

“I was wondering the same thing,” came another voice, much softer and pleasant than Gabe fucking Saporta’s. Patrick settled into the seat on Ryan’s left, his long, blond hair windswept and messy. He must’ve just come back from gym. Poor kid, gym was the worst.

 

These were Ryan’s best friends, other than Jon and Spencer of course. Patrick was a freshman ( which made him two years younger than Ryan) who had earned a spot in Honors Choir, and rightfully so. He could sing, play almost any instrument you could throw at him, and was an odd mixture of sickeningly sweet and horrendously sarcastic. Gabe was a senior but was Ryan’s age -- he was freakishly smart. He was also in choir, but was kicked out because he decided it’d be funny to put gorilla glue on Alex Gaskarth’s chair. Although Mr. Armstrong -- Billie Joe -- thought it was fucking _hilarious_ , the superintendent that was surveying the class at the time did not. Higher-ups always sucked the fun out of everything.

 

Ryan opened his mouth to respond, but was cut short by the tardy bell screeching obnoxiously. A few moments later, there was a sound of a stack of boxes tumbling over followed by almost-inaudible cursing. Mr. Way -- Gerard -- stumbled over the avalanche to stand in the middle of the class, scanning over all of the seats.

 

Ryan liked Gerard. He was his favorite teacher, other than Billie Joe. Gerard was laid back and dorky, and he pretty much gave you a basic idea and let you go at it however you wanted. He was Mikey Way’s older brother, which made him fresh out of college as Mikey was just barely a senior. Openly gay, openly supportive of gay and trans rights, outspoken, creative, hella talented -- Gerard was just the coolest. One time, he had asked if he could use Ryan’s poetry in an art example and Ryan cried. Twice.

 

“Oh hey, a new student!” Gerard chimed, weaving his fingers together happily, “What’s your name?”

 

“I’m Brendon Urie,” Brendon replied just as cheerily, “Nice to meet you.”

 

“I’m Mr. Way, but you can just call me Gerard.” He smiled, scrunching his eyes up. “Nice to meet you too, Brendon.”

 

A few moments of idle chit chat and Brendon settled easily into a debate with Gabe about Schrödinger's cat, but Ryan was only half listening. He turned to Patrick, who was combing his fingers through the knots in his hair.

 

“You ever gonna cut it?” Ryan asked, twirling a strand of the boy’s hair around his forefinger. It wasn’t quite blond or brown, it was somewhere in between. Strawberry blond? Ryan would have to look into it.

 

“Mm, depends,” Patrick replied, tilting his head to look up at Ryan, “you ever gonna cut that 70s-era Ringo Starr mane you have?”

 

“Okay, fuck you?” Ryan gasped, pulling his hand away to rest it across his chest instead. He didn’t know if Patrick was a The Beatles hater, but with a comment like that, he wouldn’t be surprised. Self-consciously, Ryan ran his fingers through his brown curls with a frown. 70s Ringo? Really?

 

“Okay, but how do you know that there’s even a cat in the box?” Gabe was asking, leaning forward so far that his and Brendon’s noses were only inches apart, “Because, even if I used your theory in which the cat is dead because you would be able to hear it if it wasn’t, how would you know that there’s even a cat in it if you don’t open the box?”

 

The conversation was cut short by Gerard calling out, “Okay, class! Today we will be doing pointillism, which is where you…”

 

  
\-     -     -  
  


 

It was a breath of relief to flop onto his bed, in his room, in his house, at least five miles away from school. He toed his shoes off carelessly onto the floor and rolled over so that his face was buried in his salmon pink comforter. The bed dipped down next to him, and Ryan could feel warmth pulsing from that side.

 

“God, you’re like a portable heater, dude.” he laughed, reaching out to touch Brendon’s knee.

 

“Hey, living in Hell for years and years just kind of makes you permanently hot.” the demon snickered, tracing his fingertip over Ryan’s knuckle and up to the edge of his fingernail. Ryan shuddered in response. “Usually not physically, though. I’m just lucky that I’m an on-call demon and I can change my appearance to whatever I want.”

 

Ryan moved so that he could peer up at the other boy. “So, why do you look like that when you could be some sculpted Greek God with chiseled features? N-not that you aren’t attractive now, I just mean… I don’t know. I mean, you look fine now! But-”

 

“I get it!” Brendon laughed, shoving Ryan’s face back into the comforter. Ryan giggled and rolled over onto his back. He wasn’t one for asphyxiation by a cute teenage demon. Wait, cute?

 

“So, uh,” Ryan cleared his throat nervously, wiping his suddenly sweaty palms on his thighs. “Why did you choose to look like this?”

 

Brendon bit his lip in response, his doe-eyed gaze flickering to the floor. He released his lip before sighing and playing with a loose string on his shirt. “It’s not important, okay? Just. Not important. Don’t worry about it, Ryro.”

  
Ryan decided to drop the subject.


	4. Light A Match To Leave (Me Be)

Ryan woke up to the feeling of someone shaking him roughly. He groggily opened his eyes and rolled onto his back to see Brendon standing over him, face illuminated by a beam of light from a flashlight. It was kind of unnerving to say the least. He glanced to his bedside table to blearily make out the numbers ‘2:19’.

 

“The fuck are you wakin’ me up at two in the morning for?” Ryan grumbled, burying his face in his comforter.

 

“We need to go somewhere, you have to come with me,” Brendon stated matter-of-factly, throwing a shirt and a pair of pants onto the pillow, “come _on_ , Ryan, get your lazy ass up.”

 

By then, Brendon was shaking the whole bed by pretty much humping it. The headboard kept clunking against the wall, the mattress was sliding around on it’s frame, and it was fucking noisy and annoying as hell. Ryan threw his blanket off onto the demon, angrily tore his shirt off and replaced it with the one Brendon had thrown down, and wiggled into the tight jeans. He roughly pulled his fingers through the knots in his hair and pulled on his sneakers before huffing and putting his hands on his hips.

 

“Where are we even going, Brendon?”

 

“Don’t worry about it, you’ll see.” Brendon grinned before bouncing over to the bedroom door and pulling it open with a loud creak.

 

“Shit Brendon, be _quiet_! My fucking dad’s here, he’ll kick my ass for trying to sneak out.” Ryan whisper-yelled angrily, but the demon just rolled his eyes and dragged him down the hallway and to the stairs. Brendon quietly stepped his way down and Ryan hesitated when he reached the bottom, just before the wall stopped.

 

Ryan didn’t know if Brendon had some bullshit invisibility cloak or something that came with being a demon, but he didn’t and he was going to get caught and brutally murdered by his dad. The shorter boy looked at him over his shoulder before rolling his eyes and grabbing his wrist in a death-grip. They tiptoed across the living room with no issues. Ryan’s dad was passed out on the couch, illuminated by the flashing of some black and white movie on the T.V. and he slept like he was dead when he’d been drinking, so he wasn’t too much of an obstacle.

 

Cold night air whipped Ryan’s face, and a shudder made his whole body jerk. He gently closed the front door, his breath making white clouds against the dark wood. Wrapping his arms around himself, he jogged after Brendon, who was already halfway across the road. Brendon was clad in a thin, lavender jacket and some jeans, and Ryan was mentally chewing him out for not getting both of them better jackets. He looked down at himself to see a shirt proudly announcing “i have a bat attitude” with a tiny cartoon bat underneath it and he snorted. Of course that nerd would come up with something like that.

 

The woods that were just behind Ryan’s neighbor’s house were even scarier at night. The tree’s looked less like things cute, fuzzy animals lived in and more like spiny, intimidating creatures. It was almost pitch black dark aside from the slight glow of the moon and the weak beam of Brendon’s flashlight. Anxiety inched up his arms and settled uncomfortably in his chest and he knew that he was panicking. Ryan took a deep breath. He saw the moon, stars, trees, grass, and Brendon’s lavender jacket. He could hear owls and frost-stiffened grass crunching under his shoes and Brendon breathing heavily. The pressure in his chest decreased, and he let out a quiet sigh.

 

Brendon clambered over a bush, nearly losing one of his shoes in the process. He cursed under his breath before shining the light back over his shoulder so that Ryan could jump over it as well. They’d reached a patchy gravel road that was a little brighter than the forest, and Brendon was already trudging down the path towards an area where the trees seemed to thin.

 

“Brendon, where the hell are we going?” Ryan couldn’t force his voice above a whisper as to not shatter the near deafening silence.

 

Brendon just _shhh_ ’d him, and Ryan tightened his fists in anger. Here he was, freezing his ass off and trusting a demon enough to walk through the fucking woods with him, and he wasn’t even going to get an answer? His heart skipped a beat as the clearing in front of them started to cloud up with fog.

 

They’d reached the end of the path and were standing at the edge of a crossroad. Trees filled the gaps between the roads to where Ryan couldn’t see more than a few feet down the roads to the left and right. He jumped in fear when he noticed a tall figure standing in the middle of the intersection, fog weaving around their body as if it was embracing them. The figure’s short, dark hair stayed unnervingly stagnant despite the cold breeze sweeping over them.

 

For a moment, Ryan thought, _Hey, this might just be a dream!_ , but no matter how hard he tried to conjure up a purple cat or turn Brendon’s hair pink, it just wasn’t happening. Brendon strode forward confidently, pulling his hood down off of his mop of brown hair. The figure turned on their heel, the light catching them so that only the high points of their face were illuminated by the stark moonlight.

 

“Hey, my dude,” Brendon grinned, and the two of them fistbumped. “I hope you don’t mind I brought a friend -- his name’s Ryan.”

 

The person turned their attention to Ryan, and Ryan visibly shrank back. He did _not_ want to be involved with Brendon’s freaky friends, thank you. For a moment, he wished that he’d wake up to see the first slits of daylight and hear Brendon snoring on his pallet. But on second thought, it might make them mad if he was rude and ignored Brendon’s friend, so he cautiously flashed a smile up at them. Brendon’s tall friend flashed a friendly smile and stuck out a hand.

 

“I’m Dallon, it’s nice to meet you, Ryan,” he greeted in a friendly tone, and Ryan tentatively shook his hand. “Would you like to make a deal?”

 

“ _No_.” Brendon snarled angrily, “Leave him alone, you’re not going to trick him into that with me around. Fuckin’ crossroad demons always trying to make deals, get out of here with that shit.”

 

Dallon laughed and squeezed Ryan’s hand before letting go. While the crossroad demon was joking about something in a different language, Ryan took a moment to look over him. He was tall, really fucking tall, and was almost as thin as Mikey Way (which was pretty damn thin). His eyes were the same burning gold as Brendon’s, but he didn’t seem to have horns or fangs or gray patches; maybe it was because he wasn’t an “on-call demon” or whatever the other demon had said he was. His clothes were formal -- all sleek and black besides the bulky peacoat that awkwardly hung off of his frame.

 

“So, whaddya need, Belial?” Dallon questioned, leaning forward so that their faces were close. Ryan chose to ignore the way Brendon’s eyes darted to his lips as he talked. Wordlessly, Brendon handed him an envelope with glowing red symbols drawn sloppily on the side.

 

“Ooh, a letter to the boss man,” Dallon observed before raising his eyebrows and letting out a low whistle. He tossed the letter in the air and it disappeared with a poof of black smoke that smelled like burnt tar. Ryan rubbed his nose irritably. He just fucking wanted to go home, he didn’t ask to get tied up in Risky Demon Business™.

 

“That’s all I needed,” Brendon said through a yawn, slipping his hood back on. Dallon made him laugh by quickly wrestling him into a bearhug and nearly throwing them both to the ground. “Alright, alright!”

 

“Sorry,” Dallon snickered as he unhanded the other demon before he practically yelled, “bye, buddy! Come visit me more often, you fuck!” Brendon just blew a raspberry at him in response as he began to walk away. Ryan didn’t know what exactly he was feeling but he really wanted to go home.

 

Suddenly, Dallon grabbed his arm and he barely suppressed a terrified screech. Wisps of fog floated past Ryan’s face as Dallon sighed before whispering softly, “Be careful with him, Ryan. He’s… fragile. Believe me, I know.”

 

The vice grip on his forearm disappeared, but when Ryan turned to ask the demon what he meant, he was met with a foggy, deserted crossroad. He frowned before burying his hands in his pockets and running in the direction that Brendon had walked.

  
  


 

x     x     x

  
  


 

Ryan decided not to sleep. They’d gotten back around five, which was a little over an hour before his alarm would go off. Brendon had had no issues with curling up in his nest of blankets and passing out almost immediately, but Ryan’s restless soul couldn’t even sit down for more than a few seconds.

 

He was unnerved, but he didn’t even know _why_ he was unnerved. He paced from his bed to his desk and back until his alarm started blaring, then he sighed, turned it off, and nudged Brendon awake with the toe of his sneaker. The demon sat up, his eyes misty and his hair sticking up on one side. He blinked a few times before commenting, “Damn, Ryan, you look like shit.”

 

“Thanks.” Ryan replied bluntly before shuffling out of his room and to the bathroom and damn, Brendon wasn’t lying.

 

His curly brown hair was frizzy and untamed, dark rings circled his eyes, and he seemed a hell of a lot paler than usual. It wasn’t the arrival of Brendon that made him look so bad, his appearance had been faltering for a while. Ryan sighed and scrubbed his eyes before half-heartedly attempting to smooth down his rebellious curls. He was fucking _tired_. Maybe skipping out on sleep was a worse idea than he’d originally thought. Just like summoning a fucking demon. Well, Brendon wasn’t too bad, he guessed.

 

Speaking of Brendon, Ryan treaded back into his room to see the demon striking a pose in one of his paisley scarves. He snorted against his own will, and Brendon grinned. He conjured up a pair of ugly tortoiseshell glasses and a plain black shirt before sighing dramatically and leaning against Ryan’s desk.

 

“I’m Ryan Ross, I’m sixteen, I love The Beatles, and I’m just a teenage dirtbag, baby,” he remarked in a way-too-flamboyant and high voice, twirling a piece of his hair as he did so.

 

“Fuck you, dude, I don’t even talk like that!” Ryan laughed, shoving Brendon off of the desk before snatching up his algebra binder and running downstairs.

 

 

 

 

School was just as mind-numbingly boring as always. Jon had relaxed a bit more around Brendon and even cracked a few jokes about him and playfully punched him. Brendon took it all in stride -- he even laughed when Jon said he looked like an emo hipster in his outfit. Now, they were standing on Spencer’s porch with their school shit in tow as aforementioned teenager fumbled with his keys.

 

Spencer’s house was… peculiar. He lived with his weird aunt who had an obsession with everything occult. It kind of made Ryan nervous bringing Brendon into what very well could be a Demon Trap. Who knows what kind of freaky witchcraft bullshit Spencer’s aunt conjured up to keep the house clean of bad spirits.

 

Windchimes made of fragments of broken glass and pale crystals clunked together in the breeze from the air conditioning. Pots and jars and bottles were crammed with substances that ranged from what could be water to gooey, vaseline-textured concoctions. Charming antique rugs were layered on the worn wooden floors and pinned to the walls; beads and sheer curtains were also used as decorations to be layered. All in all, the house was very cluttered and reminded Ryan of a home-y antique shop, besides Spencer’s room of course. Walking into Spencer’s room was like walking into Narnia because of how different it was.

 

Brendon settled down uneasily next to Ryan on the lumpy burnt orange-colored couch. Ryan noted the way he sat rigid and alert, the way his fingers curled tensely around his knees, the way his jaw tightened every time Jon laughed a little too loud or Spencer moved a little too fast. He gently placed his hand between Brendon’s shoulder blades and forced out a small reassuring smile, but he was only met with wide, fearful doe eyes. He frowned.

 

“Something’s not right here, Ryan,” the demon whispered, his voice gravelly.

 

Suddenly, the curtain of beads separating the living room from Spencer’s aunt’s room clanked and opened as she stepped out onto the soft rugs. Her curly auburn hair was swept out of her face and her flowing paisley dress pooled around her feet. Ryan didn’t mind her, so to say. She just gave him the heebie-jeebies sometimes. Her face fell and her blue eyes widened.

 

“Something’s not right here,” she deadpanned, narrowing her eyes in confusion. Ryan’s heart sped up and he gripped the back of Brendon’s shirt just in case they needed to bolt. Jon turned to look at them over the top of Spencer’s head and shot them a worried look.

 

Spencer’s aunt dug around in a drawer of a beat up antique cabinet and produced a tiny porcelain bowl full of some sort of herb. She lit the whole damn bowl of herbs with a lighter ( _My fucking lighter,_ Ryan noted angrily. He’d lost the motherfucker weeks ago.) and held it high above her head. Ryan’s nose wrinkled instantly. Sage. Gross.

 

“Dear God, Virgin Mary, Jesus and Archangel Michael, bless this home and all who enter, please cleanse this home of all evil and negative energy, fill this home with light and love and with positive energy of the highest vibration,” Spencer’s aunt called out, and Spencer covered his face in embarrassment. Jon raised his eyebrow in skepticism as the woman rambled on for a few more verses before closing with an “amen” and disappearing back into her room. Spencer rushed after her, probably to scold her for “doing freaky ritual shit in front of my friends”.

 

Brendon suddenly heaved like he was going to vomit, and Ryan jerked away. His skin was hot, so hot it warped the atmosphere around him. The demon was fucking smoldering the couch underneath him, making the orange fabric turn black and brown. Smoke puffed from the cushions and Brendon’s hair and his skin and his mouth and his eyes; his arms were turning a horrible mixture of red and gray and his nails suddenly protruded forward like unsheathed cat claws. Crackling noises made Ryan gag roughly and horns broke through the skin of Brendon’s forehead, making blood trickle down his face in slow trails.

 

“Burns burns burns burns! It _burns_ ,” Brendon was whining into his hands, his voice raw with pain, “Make it stop, make it _stop,_ please please _please_!”

  
He fumbled out a few words in a tongue that sounded like pure gibberish to Ryan’s ears before bolting out of the front door, leaving a light trail of smoke in his wake. The whole fucking room smelled like burnt couch and burnt flesh and Ryan heaved again, shakily gripping his thighs. Jon acted fast, however, jumping the coffee table like a damn hurdle to sprint after the demon. Spencer emerged from his aunt’s room, his baby blue eyes as wide as saucers as he jogged out onto the porch. Ryan wanted to vomit.


	5. Hey Holy Roller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yikes im sorry for such a long interval of time between these chapters, life has been kicking my ass.
> 
> this isnt even good, i had to force myself to write it sighhh

Four hours. It had been four hours since Brendon Belial Urie disappeared into thin fucking air. Ryan was standing knee deep in forest undergrowth. Alone. At night. Spencer and Jon had given up some odd hours ago, saying that Brendon will probably show up again the next day. But Ryan, being the stubborn bitch he was, refused to quit searching for his demonic friend. He really regretted that decision.

 

Ryan trudged back in what he hoped was the direction of Spencer’s house, wrapping his arms around himself in a fervent attempt to keep himself warm. The woods were eerily silent and it felt as if a million tiny eyes were staring right through him, waiting for him to trip and become easy prey. He sped up until he was in a full sprint and only slowed down when the amber glimmer of street lights flitted through the trees. Ryan huffed and puffed as he stumbled out onto the road a few blocks away from his house.

  
The streets were bare and deserted and the street lamps flickered on and off like dying stars. Wind howled and cut through Ryan as if he was butter. It was a bad idea to be outside at night without a coat, but, of course, demon bullshit just _had_ to happen. Ryan cursed God and Satan and Brendon and Spencer's aunt and the sun and everything else in between. He wouldn't be too upset if Brendon never came back, if he just stayed in the fucking woods forever with his stupid crossroad demon boyfriend and never bothered Ryan ever again.

 

"That's not nice," came a voice, soft and mellow through the banshee wails of the wind.

 

Ryan jumped, stopping a few inches short from bumping into a tall man. His mouth went dry and his hands trembled when he looked up at the demon. His face was just as unnerving as it was the night before; all alabaster and sharp cheekbones and dark eyes. The teenager struggled to form words or think of a response, his breath hitching as his anxiety rapidly climbed upwards.

 

"You-you can read minds?" he finally forced out, squeaky and hoarse.

 

"Sometimes," Dallon dismissed with a wave of his hand, "but anyways, where's Belial? Shouldn't he be chasing you like a lovesick puppy? Or vice versa?"

 

Ryan's cheeks burned at that. Fucking Belial. Fuck that guy, he didn't have to fucking vanish like fucking Satan Houdini and leave Ryan stranded out in the cold ass wilderness. He buried his numb fingers in the pockets of his jeans before sucking in a breath. "I don't fucking know, I don't care. That's who I just spent four hours out in the woods looking for."

 

Dallon gave him a look of pity - an upturn of the eyebrows and a pout of the lips that made the teenager simmer in agitation. He brushed his dark hair behind his ears before sighing. "Ryan, you really care about him, don't you? You should know better than to get this involved with someone like him."

 

 _You don't know Brendon,_ came the immediate response in Ryan's mind, but he shook off the sudden aggression. He settled for a more passive form of defensiveness.

 

"'Someone like him'," he repeated, "Do you think I'm stupid? He's a demon, believe me,  _I know_."

 

"He wasn't always a demon." Dallon snapped back, curling his fingers into a tight fist. "You don't know Belial like I know Belial, so step off a little bit with this school girl crush on him."

 

"What do you mean he wasn't always a demon? I'm pretty sure the Bible says he came out of Lucifer's actual ass or something." Ryan growled before blushing and angrily yelling, "And I  _don't_ have a crush on him! I'm not in love with him! I don't think he's cute or charming or funny! At all!"

 

"I didn't even mention that last part," Dallon stated smugly, grinning down at the curly haired human. His statue-esque features settled into a more solemn look and suddenly the crossroad demon didn't seem so tall and mighty. Suddenly, he seemed more human - more worn out and tired. He sighed before meeting Ryan's eyes and repeating: "Belial wasn't always a demon."

 

"The Bible isn't always accurate when it comes to backstories, you know. Belial was just a kid - a prince of the angels living it up with Archangel Michael and all of those dicks. He was a sweet kid, he helped out a lot and always did his good deeds and never disobeyed his orders. The perfect servant; the perfect image of what an angel is supposed to be."

 

The world around the two shifted and melted. The midnight blue of the sky smeared into the dreary gold of the lights, and houses became smudges of color on a dark, swirling canvas. The whole ordeal made Ryan's stomach do flips and he squeezed his eyes shut and grasped around to find Dallon. The demon interlocked their fingers and suddenly, a blast of light bled through his eyelids and he slowly opened them. His jaw dropped in silent shock at the sight around him.

 

Needless to say, he wasn't in Vegas anymore. A bright blue sky bled into cotton ball clouds, and dozens of white-winged people strolled about. Some of them had eyes covering them like something out of a nightmare, some of them had so many wings that no skin was visible, and some looked like the stereotypical angels plastered on every Sunday school drawing. One of them stood out among the others - a short boy with messy brown hair and big doe eyes.  _Brendon._

 

Brendon didn't seem to notice them as he waved over two considerably taller boys; one had curly hair and a friendly face, and the other had dark brown hair and a face that sort of reminded Ryan of Jon. Brendon instantly lit up like the fucking sun and God, Ryan's heart clenched and butterflies erupted in the pit of his stomach. He started blabbing about his day and what he ate and what duties he was assigned.

 

"Can you believe it, Andy? Archangel Michael wanted  _me_ to help him sharpen his swords!" Brendon cheered excitedly, clapping his hands together.

 

The dark haired one - Andy, Ryan presumed - frowned a little bit before an eerie smile crept back onto his face. "Hey Belial," he started smugly, elbowing the boy next to him, "I dare you to go steal one of Gabriel's rosaries."

 

Brendon's eyes widened in shock at the dare. He shook his head with a furrow of his brows, "No! What's wrong with you?"

 

"What, are you a coward?" Andy grinned menacingly. "Ooh, Belial's a  _coward_ , he's too afraid to even think about touching Gabriel's rosary."

 

"I-I-I-" Brendon spluttered, knotting his hands in his white gown nervously, "I...  _Sisky_ _!_  Sisky, tell Andy that he is out of his mind for thinking about that!"

 

Sisky didn't respond, he just raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. He glanced over to Andy, but the boy just cocked his head and glared down at the other angel. Brendon's eyes searched the two fearfully, gnawing on his lip. His wings fluttered and ruffled as Andy teased him more and more before he finally burst out, "Okay! Okay, I'll do it!"

 

Ryan glanced over at Dallon, who was stoic and solemn. His heart skipped a few beats and he squeezed the demon's hand tight before daring to glance back at the scene. Suddenly, the inviting blue sky had turned into a torrent of stormy grays and stark whites, and there were only two angels standing before the onlookers. Brendon was on his knees with a glittering gold rosary clutched between his trembling fingers, and Ryan stopped breathing as he took in the sight of the other angel.

 

The angel was huge, towering above even Dallon. It was as thin as a twig with wings as long as buses arched off of the sharp angle of it's spine. Dozens of eerie eyes blinked and gawked at the smaller angel and a horrendous screech made Ryan stumble back a few steps.

 

"What do you think you're doing, boy? You have sinned by not only stealing my rosary, but defending your pride when you know it's against God's will." the angel roared as loud as thunder, although it had no mouth. Brendon opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water before he was interrupted, "Enough! I believe your time here in God's land is over, young Belial. You have shown your true colors by committing these atrocities."

 

Gabriel spit out words that Ryan couldn't wrap his head around before the clouds around Brendon's knees began to split open to reveal a molten red light emitting from the underneath. Brendon began to shriek and scrabble at the clouds, looking up at Gabriel with teary, pleading eyes. "No! No! Nononono! Please, I'm sorry!" he cried out helplessly and Ryan let out a loud cry before wrenching his hand out of Dallon's and he was sent back to his world.

 

Ryan's whole body was trembling uncontrollably, and he let out a sob. He could still hear Brendon's pleas echo in his mind like a siren, and his heart ached in response. He looked around for Dallon, but he was left alone in the solitude of the neighborhood. With shaky steps, he walked home as fast as he could.

 

 

Ryan sped up the stairs, gasping for air. His head was spinning as he threw open his bedroom door and stumbled inside. His heart fluttered in relief when he saw Brendon curled up in his desk chair, twisting the strings of his hoodie in his fingers. He looked like a mess; his brown hair was like a birds nest, his skin was alabaster and patched with stone gray blotches, and his clothes were dirty and disheveled. Ryan forced back his tears as he threw himself forward and wrapped his arms around the demon. He wasn't even angry that Brendon had probably been inside the house the whole time him and Jon and Spencer had been out in the woods searching for him. He knew he should've been, but he couldn't bring himself to feel anything other than relief and pity.

 

Brendon let out a noise of confusion before hesitantly hugging the human back. His arms were warm against the chill of Ryan's back, and the he knotted his fingers in the soft fabric of the other boy's hoodie. He let out a shaky sigh into Brendon's shoulder before whispering, "They tricked you." 

 

Brendon became rigid, digging his nails into Ryan's back. His heart dropped into his stomach when he realized what he said - realized that both him and Dallon might be in a lot of trouble for knowing how Brendon became a demon. But Brendon didn't say anything, he just shoved him off before wordlessly throwing himself onto the bed and curling into the blankets. Ryan toed off his shoes and flicked off the lights before he crawled into his own bed and murmured, "Good night, Brendon."

 

He didn't get a response.


End file.
